


Pain of the Flesh

by KittieHill



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Awkwardness, Blindfolds, Changing POV, Coming Untouched, Doctor John, Embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, Happy Birthday Chrissy!, M/M, Masturbation, Medical stuff, New Relationship, Painful ejaculations, Prostate Examinations, Prostate Massage, Sweetness, Understanding John, Unfinished - but hoping that posting will force me to write, Virgin Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, just very soft, self conscious sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: “Shooting… a burst of stabbing pain in my lower abdomen at the moment of crisis...” Sherlock said before taking a drink of John's orange juice, purely to give him something to do with his anxious hands.“It sounds like prostatitis...” John diagnosed as he rubbed a thumb over his chin.“How do I make it go away?” Sherlock asked, “I – I don't want to be in pain because I need…” he blushed, “I need to practice.”John frowned gently and then stood, walking to Sherlock's side and kissing his forehead “You're perfect as you are. Daft arse.” he promised and then leaned to kiss Sherlock's lips, “I can properly diagnose you but… it's going to take a little bit of medical intervention.”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IneffableHusbands95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableHusbands95/gifts).



> I promised Chrissy I would write her a fic for her birthday. I had got this much done and then all will to live escaped me! 
> 
> Therefore I am posting this chapter in an attempt to boot myself up the arse to write more on it. Hopefully progressing to full sex and sweetness. 
> 
> So Happy Birthday Chrissy, my fellow pervert and Aussie beauty. Sorry it's a bit late.

John pulled back from kissing Sherlock, reaching up to push a strand of curls behind the other man's ear as he attempted to breathe through the intense arousal which had built inside him. Sherlock was looking on pink-cheeked and with huge dilated pupils, and John knew that if he was to look at himself in a mirror he wouldn't be far off looking the same.

They had only been an official couple for two weeks, having declared their feelings for one another after one of those  _ too-close  _ cases where a moment could have been disastrous if not for the absolute luck which seemed to follow Sherlock wherever he went. For two glorious weeks, they had kissed and cuddled, had held hands on the sofa and fell asleep curled up in front of the telly, but John was holding back, was trying his hardest not to pressure Sherlock into something due to his inexperience. Sherlock had admitted that he had never gone further than kisses in the past, but he wanted to… he just needed a little bit of time. John had promised that regardless of what desire he was feeling towards his partner, he would never push Sherlock until he was absolutely ready. Sherlock had seemed relieved, and they had stuck to innocent kisses and above the clothes hugs. They were even still sleeping in their own bedrooms separately which John was thankful of since he was wanking more than he ever had in his teens.

With another few pecked kisses, John bid Sherlock goodnight and climbed off the sofa on wobbly legs, the prominent shape of his erection visible through his jeans. John had noticed that Sherlock was somewhat affected in the same way, but it wasn't as noticeable with the black slacks he was wearing. Climbing up the stairs to his bedroom was torturous and John considered undoing the zip of his flies and pulling his dick out to stop it being squashed with each footstep, but soon he was at the top and closing his bedroom door, stripping out of his clothes and collapsing onto the bed.

* * *

Sherlock sat on the sofa, his fingers in his mouth as he chewed nervously and then reached down to trail his fingers across the swollen bulge at his crotch. It had taken longer than he had anticipated to wake his libido back up, but thankfully he was able to maintain an erection. Not that John seemed to mind, with his hands straying only onto innocent areas like Sherlock's arms and knees. Sherlock knew he was being ridiculous, after all, he was the one who wanted John to give him time and space, but still!

Continuing to stroke his fingers along the thick shape of himself, Sherlock bit down on his digits to stop the groan escaping his lips. He closed his eyes in embarrassment as he undid his trousers, slipping them down his thighs and kicking them off the end of the bed along with his socks. His shirt came next until he was laying on his high thread count sheets, naked and aroused for the first time in a long time. Realising that he no longer had lubricant in his bedside drawer, Sherlock spat into his palm and then wrapped his long fingers around his cock. The pleasure zinged through his veins and Sherlock moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he arched his back and rutted his hips into the sensations. 

It was intense, more than he had remembered and he whimpered as he realised it was only going to get more so as he progressed.

The fingers which were in his mouth slipped down to his nipples, giving them a gentle touch and squeeze, feeling the nubs becoming swollen and hardened as he combined the strokes of his chest with those of his cock. He was leaking already, slicking the way along with the now drying saliva and dripping a thin, translucent puddle onto his belly as he tried to remember what he liked. He was trying to experiment until he heard a loud moan above him, the squeaking of springs which made Sherlock imagine John on his hands and knees, rutting and fucking into his fist and Sherlock knew it was too late, knew he couldn't drag out his pleasure as he juddered and cried out, hearing John's orgasmic cries a second before his own.

The first thing Sherlock felt was pain. A sharp, searing pain that seemed to explode from his lower stomach and radiate out. The pleasure of his orgasm was swallowed by the pain and Sherlock cried out, grabbed the bedding in his hands to tense around as he blinked and fought with the sudden nausea which had crept up into his throat. Sherlock felt himself sweating, his skin crawling with an unease even as his cock continued to pulse and cover his belly and chest in long, thick blobs of white. Sherlock cringed, gasping and then pushing his hands into his hair.

_ What the fuck had just happened. _

* * *

The next morning, John was already at the breakfast table when Sherlock shuffled through still sleepy and dressed in nothing but a sheet and a pair of pyjama bottoms. John reached for Sherlock's hand and tugged him down for a soft morning kiss, Sherlock tasted like mint and when he pulled back he winced at the taste from John's mouth. Orange juice and toothpaste apparently not his favourite.

“Everything okay?” John asked, patting Sherlock on the bum and attempting to get him to sit down and nibble on the leftover toast on his plate.

“Mmm.” Sherlock nodded, but John knew the man well enough to know that Sherlock was concerned. They shared a look, Sherlock sighing and rolling his eyes before he spoke again, “I… I have an issue.” he blushed pink to the tips of his ears and nodded down at his crotch. “Down there.”

“O-Oh.” John replied, straightening up and immediately becoming Doctor Watson, “What's the problem?”

Sherlock seemed to wilt in embarrassment and he covered his face with his hands. John was surprised, in all of the time he had known Sherlock, the man had never been embarrassed about anything. John got a cold shiver of worry.

“Is it – a lump?” he asked with a knot of anxiety in his belly.

“No.” Sherlock said immediately, reaching across for John's hand and holding it, “It's nothing – serious. At least I don't think so. It's just – last night whilst I was… erm… after we had gone to bed, I tried to...”

“Pleasure yourself?” John answered for Sherlock, seeing how much the man was struggling.

Sherlock whimpered in his throat and nodded softly, “That. When I was doing – that. It hurt.”

John tilted his head with interest and tried to ignore the throb of arousal low in his belly, he knew that Sherlock must have taken care of his needs, but seeing Sherlock's reaction and his embarrassment and shyness was definitely doing something complicated to John's hormones.

“Hurt how?” John prodded, “Was it – your penis?”

“John...” Sherlock whined and covered his face again, “This is mortifying.”

“Sherlock...” the doctor smiled, “Firstly, I am a doctor. I've seen everything you could possibly imagine so nothing you say would shock or surprise me. Secondly, you do realise that I know you have a penis, right?” he chuckled, “What is in your pants is not a huge secret.”

Sherlock gave a shy smile and inhaled deeply, steeling himself before he began speaking, “It was not my – my penis. No. There was a terrible pain during the… the…” he gave a useless hand gesture which seemed to clue John into what he was saying.

“Ah… Was there any bleeding?” John asked professionally, nodding when Sherlock shook his head in response, “Can you describe the pain?”

“Shooting… a burst of stabbing pain in my lower abdomen at the moment of crisis...” Sherlock said before taking a drink of John's orange juice, purely to give him something to do with his anxious hands.

“It sounds like prostatitis...” John diagnosed as he rubbed a thumb over his chin.

“How do I make it go away?” Sherlock asked, “I – I don't want to be in pain because I need…” he blushed, “I need to practice.”

John frowned gently and then stood, walking to Sherlock's side and kissing his forehead “You're perfect as you are. Daft arse.” he promised and then leaned to kiss Sherlock's lips, “I can properly diagnose you but… it's going to take a little bit of medical intervention.”

* * *

John followed Sherlock into his bedroom, watching as the younger man nervously shed himself of his sheet. He stood nervously, blinking at John who walked over to him, cupping his chin and letting them share a tender kiss, feeling the moment that Sherlock relaxed and hummed with arousal. John didn’t want to let it go too far, didn’t want to risk Sherlock becoming so overwhelmed with desire that he once again was forced into a painful ejaculation. Instead, John tapped Sherlock’s hip and carefully steered him towards the bed. It took a few movements to get it set up ready, allowing Sherlock space to curl up on his side with a pillow supporting his head. John reached for the gloves he had brought in, along with a small tube of lubricant which he had nabbed from the clinic. This was easy, it was familiar, John knew this but he didn’t know it with Sherlock which is why it felt so daunting as he carefully stood at Sherlock’s side and crouched as he pulled on his gloves.

“Do you want me to walk you through it?” John asked, 

Sherlock’s small, nervous nod was all the answer he needed before John prompted Sherlock to pull his trousers down below his bottom. He covered Sherlock with a sheet to spare his blushes since they hadn’t progressed to that stage yet. John knew that Sherlock wasn’t ready for full nakedness quite yet.

“Okay.” John said with a reassuring tone, “I’m going to add this lubricant onto my glove so that it goes nice and slick. It won’t hurt if you relax, okay?”

Sherlock nodded again, but he closed his eyes tightly.

John felt the moment Sherlock startled at the touch of his other clean glove touching his buttocks, parting his cheeks gently so that he could press the cold lubricated digit to the furled, entrance between. Sherlock shuddered, and John held his breath and stayed still as Sherlock got used to the odd sensation. John had felt the same way the first time somebody had touched him there, feeling the shame and odd arousal burning through him at the decidedly naughty feeling. 

“Okay, I need you to relax.” John insisted, “take some deep breaths. In through your nose, and out through the mouth for me…” he demonstrated a few times and smiled when he felt Sherlock following along. 

“That’s brilliant.” the doctor soothed as he circled his finger, gently prodding and teasing at the ring of muscle, “Now, I’m going to gently insert my finger into you. It shouldn’t be too painful but it might feel odd.”

Sherlock whined low in his throat and pushed his head further into the pillow, but nodded his consent. John desperately wanted to stroke Sherlock’s back, to soothe him more and keep him calm but he couldn’t do anything with his hands in the positions they were in, Instead, John leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the slope of Sherlock’s waist where he could reach.

* * *

Sherlock’s brain was short-circuiting. Alarms were going off in his mind palace and he was fairly certain that his body was on fire. 

John was touching him.

John was touching his anus.

_ HIS ANUS _

Sherlock whimpered and slammed his eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe and cursing his lungs at not responding adequately. His skin felt too hot, too tight and he desperately wanted to combust so he would no longer be in this awkward situation.

And then John moved.

Sherlock moaned so loudly that it startled them both. His cock which had shrivelled up at the mortifying situation was suddenly diamond hard and resting against the inside of his thigh where his leg was bent under him. His brain was swimming with sensation, the slow glide of John’s glove against untouched muscle, the thickness of John’s finger, the heat and sweat which was coming off his own body in waves.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

Sherlock was going to die. He was sure of it.

John was talking now, but Sherlock had no idea what he was saying. It sounded like Sherlock was submerged underwater and John was shouting from the surface. Sherlock was about to ask John to repeat himself when suddenly there was an unbelievable sensation. A pain/pleasure shock that zinged through his entire nervous system and forced a sound like “ ** _HAHHHH_** ” from deep inside Sherlock’s lungs. He was certain he was going to blackout as John held steady, refusing to move his finger until Sherlock nodded and said “Yes” quietly. 

The sensation came back, making Sherlock’s eyes cross and his breathing stutter as John probed at something deep inside him. Sherlock realised that this must have been his prostate but he hadn’t expected anything like this.

“You’re definitely swollen…” John was saying from somewhere behind him, but Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care, he just wanted John to continue to touch him. 

“Make it stop hurting…” Sherlock whined, hips pushing back instinctually which made John’s breathing hitch.

“I could try and massage it… reduce some of the swelling and it might help,” John suggested which made Sherlock want to cry in bliss. 

“Yes… Yes… That. Please.” Sherlock begged, hands tangling into the bedding as he looked down at his now tight and red-tipped cock which was drooling precome across his skin.

Sherlock half-listened as John explained, describing techniques and how he was going to stimulate the gland. It shouldn’t have been arousing, definitely not when he was discussing the probability of Sherlock needing antibiotics to treat the underlying infection - but there was something in John’s smooth, gentle tone that washed over Sherlock and caused another fission of heat up his spine and caused his cock to bob against his leg.

Gasping for breath, Sherlock bucked his hips in an attempt to hurry John up, to force him to move and just keep touching. The walls of his mind palace were crumbling and Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care.

* * *

This was bad.

This was terribly bad.

John looked down at Sherlock’s pink and sweat-slicked skin, watched as the younger mans face contorted with a mixture of pain and pleasure. His hips were moving in desperation to get John to move but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sherlock. 

And then John spotted it. The soaked patch of the sheet where Sherlock’s cock was. John knew that the massage would help drain some of the build-up - he had seen it countless times - but seeing that it was Sherlock, that it was the man who had shunned pleasure and arousal only built the enjoyment further. 

He was so fucked.

John should have forced himself into his detached GP state. He should have behaved as though Sherlock was just any patient seeking medical care, but he couldn’t. He had stitched Sherlock up, had given him pills and lotions for a variety of case-based injuries but this was different. This was intimate.

Breathing slowly through his nose, John tried to make his shoulders relax and attempted to calm the fluttering in his stomach and chest. This didn’t feel like a normal prostate examination and John assumed that it was because Sherlock wasn’t a normal patient.

Removing his finger gently, John added more lubricant and shuffled on the edge of the bed to get more comfortable. With his now slicked fingers, John pressed inside again and began a slow, firm massage of that gland inside.

Sherlock’s legs kicked out, a warbling sound of beautiful agony leaving his throat as he gripped the bedding and seemingly tried to push back onto and away from John’s fingers.

“Shhh now,” John soothed, his now unneeded hand moving to softly stroke at Sherlock’s hip over the sheet, “It’s alright…”

“John…” Sherlock whined, turning to look up at John in a way which stopped John dead. Sherlock looked wrecked, his hair stuck to his face in wet ringlets and his cheeks a dark pink. His eyes which were locked onto John were blown almost entirely black and his lips looked like they had been bitten down until they had bled.

“Let go if you need to…” John whispered, feeling his cock pulse and leak its own precome into the fabric of his pants.

“I --” Sherlock began and then groaned deep and loud, reaching for John’s hand and grasping it with a wild strength. 

* * *

Sherlock knew he was going to come. He knew it was already too late to stop it and he hadn’t even touched his cock yet. The only thing stopping it was Sherlock’s panicking that it was going to be as painful as the night before.

The touch of John’s gloved hand against his own helped. The grounding presence of his blogger, his doctor, of the man who made everything tolerable was a balm to his frayed nerves and suddenly his orgasm was right there.

Shouting out a garbled string of words, Sherlock tensed and gasped out loud, mouth lolling open in what must have looked ridiculous but John didn’t seem to care as he couldn’t take his eyes from Sherlock. Sherlock rambled, moaning and clasping John’s hand as his cock gave a warning throbbing, bobbing up and down before suddenly pulsing hot and wet across his skin and the sheet over him. There was pain, Sherlock felt it low in his stomach but the pleasure and knowledge that it was John who helped him pushed through the pain and allowed Sherlock to feel the bliss. He had never had a handsfree orgasm before and he made a note to feel smug about it later - once he could actually think.

* * *

John watched wide-eyed as Sherlock’s ejaculate striped across the white sheet, soaking it through and showing just how much Sherlock had needed the massage. The other man was trembling, speaking in a language John didn’t know but he understood enough to realise that the man was blissed out. Stilling his fingers inside Sherlock, John carefully pulled out and pulled off his gloves which he left at the side of the bed to dispose of. He gently lowered himself to lay behind Sherlock, gathering him up in his arms and kissing Sherlock’s shoulder tenderly. 

“I’m right here,” John whispered.

“Where else would you be?” Sherlock responded and reached for John’s hand, tangling their fingers and then placing it over his still faintly trembling belly. 


	2. The Smell of Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you like to masturbate with me?” Sherlock stammered and then went a pretty pink across his cheekbones, “Tonight I mean… in bed. My bed.”
> 
> John felt a throb of arousal and nodded quickly, “Of course, if you're ready for that.”
> 
> “I am… I think,” Sherlock muttered, “But… And you can say no if this is too far – but… I would like to blindfold you. I'm not quite ready for you to see me so...” he made an awkward gesture, which John smiled at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to Gem for once again helping make sense of this fic and helping me with its flow. I love her very much.

John had ensured Sherlock finished his prescribed antibiotics to cure the underlying infection, much to Sherlock's chagrin, with coaxing and bribery to take his medication. John had been one step away from hiding the pill inside one of Sherlock's favourite muffins like he had heard people talk about when worming their pets. At first, Sherlock had been grumpy at being forced to take medication, but with regular kisses and promises of additional complementary therapy of regular prostate massages, it had definitely lessened the bite to Sherlock's complaints.

The doctor in John knew that there wasn't much evidence that the massages actually helped, not clinically researched proof anyway, but they definitely seemed to help Sherlock relax and unwind after a long day, so John didn't think he was doing any harm. They still continued their day-to-day activities as normal, except that now, when the night ticked into early morning, Sherlock invited John into his bedroom with an awkward clearing of his throat.

When Sherlock's course of antibiotics ended, John had imagined that they would go back to their regular snogging and heavy petting sessions on the sofa, however, he was surprised when one night Sherlock cleared his throat and seemed to be trying to build the confidence to speak.

“ John...” Sherlock began, fiddling with his drink nervously, “I wondered… well – I hoped – I mean...”

“ You're alright,” John smiled softly, reaching a hand out for Sherlock to hold, “Tell me?”

“ Would you like to masturbate with me?” Sherlock stammered and then went a pretty pink across his cheekbones, “Tonight I mean… in bed. My bed.”

John felt a throb of arousal and nodded quickly, “Of course, if you're ready for that.”

“ I am… I think,” Sherlock muttered, “But… And you can say no if this is too far – but… I would like to blindfold you. I'm not quite ready for you to see me so...” he made an awkward gesture, which John smiled at.

“ If that's what you need.” John smiled again, his thumb rubbing across Sherlock's knuckles.

* * *

The blindfold turned out to be one of Sherlock's scarves, something John enjoyed immensely because he could smell that familiar scent of Sherlock's body, of his sweat and cologne.

John relaxed as Sherlock tied it around his eyes, ensuring it wasn't too tight and it wasn't going to cause any hairs to be forcefully yanked into the knot. He kissed John's head, lingering for a moment with his soft, dry lips against John's forehead.

“ I'm going to get undressed...” Sherlock muttered nervously somewhere to John's left.

There was rustling, a fairly loud bang and a whispered swear, which made John smile, and then the mattress beside him dipped as Sherlock took his seat. John could feel Sherlock trembling slightly and he moved his hand to gently rest on Sherlock's knee, keeping the touches innocent and unrushed as he took in long, deep breaths, coaxing Sherlock to do the same.

“ This shouldn't be so difficult,” Sherlock whispered into the darkness, seemingly finding it easier to speak without John's gaze on him, “I am a grown man. You have seen me in states of undress before. Why does it feel so...”

“ Vulnerable?” John finished for him, giving his knee a squeeze, “Because that's what sex is. It’s raw and emotional and you feel flayed open.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment before he replied, “Does it get easier?”

“ Eventually,” John promised, awkwardly trying to seek out Sherlock's cheek whilst blindfolded. He pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin and pulled back, “You'll get used to it – you'll realise that it's just me. Only me. Silly, little old John Watson who fancies you rotten and thinks you're brilliant.”

“ I know it’s you!” Sherlock snorted, “A-And I know you think I'm brilliant. I've read your blog. I just – ” he quieted again and sighed.

* * *

This wasn't going how Sherlock had hoped. John had been half-hard when they had climbed onto the bed and had actually gotten harder as his eyes were blindfolded, but now, Sherlock noticed, John's cock was soft and curled up slightly, sitting comfortably against the doctor’s inner thigh.

It was a disaster.

And his own cock was still flaccid and small with the nerves of the moment. Sherlock closed his eyes, calming his breathing and following the rise and fall of John's chest as he breathed until he felt the stirrings of panic dissolve and the tension reduce a little. He ran his arm down to his genitals, giving it a slow stroke and trembled at the sensation, one which had gradually built throughout the day as Sherlock formulated his plan to get John into his bed.

John spoke, and Sherlock missed what he said at first until John snuffled with laughter and said again, “I said...You have the most gorgeous legs, you know?”

Sherlock blinked, confused and frowning as he looked down at his own legs. They were fine legs. Strong and honed from years of running, and dancing before that – but he wouldn't have classed them as gorgeous.

“ Sometimes I see you when you're in your sheet and I just stare at them. They're so well defined and strong. Your calves don't look unnaturally big...” John said as he let his hand slip down to run teasing fingertips across Sherlock's lightly haired skin. “They're just perfect.”

With a shiver, Sherlock managed to wrap a hand around himself and gave a long stroke from base to tip, making a choked sound as he felt John continue to stroke above the knee, then slightly higher to the inside of Sherlock's thigh, “And your thighs...” John continued, skimming a finger across a scar that had been caused by a nasty bit of barbed wire during a case. Seemingly able to map out Sherlock's scars by memory alone, Sherlock watched as John traced each bump and flaw. “Saw them when I stitched this one up...” John remarked, “and they were perfect. Strong and pale.” His hand stopped just an inch before Sherlock's low hanging testicles and moved back down slowly, carefully and unhurriedly.

Flicking his eyes across to John's other hand, Sherlock noticed that John had begun to slowly fist his cock, stroking himself slow and sensually as if trying to make the sensations last longer. The thought of John being so aroused, so turned on purely because he was remembering Sherlock's skin, was a huge boost to Sherlock's nervous pride and his cock twitched in his own hand as he teased a pearlescent bead of precome from the slit of his shaft.

“ W-What else?” Sherlock whispered, voice thick and deep as he gave a dramatic swallow.

John gave a throaty laugh and leaned across to kiss the top of Sherlock's shoulder reassuringly, “Every part of you,” he promised before continuing, “But your hands. Christ almighty your hands are incredible.”

Sherlock looked down at his callused and chemical stained fingers, frowning once again in confusion.

“ I can actually hear you frowning,” John chuckled, “You have beautiful fingers. So long and slender. Such clever little things too.”

Feeling sweat beading at his forehead, Sherlock moaned deeply and then pressed his own fingers to his lips, attempting to keep quiet only for John to nose across his skin so he was able to kiss beneath Sherlock's ear, “Don't do that...” John sighed, “I like hearing you. I don't want to hear you muffled.”

“ It's – unattractive,” Sherlock grunted but did remove his hands to grasp at John's leg.

John shook his head fondly, “Sherlock, you're an idiot. Do you have no idea what your voice does to people?”

“ Yes. Usually annoys them,” Sherlock grumbled under his breath but smiled when John barked out a laugh.

“ Touché,” John replied, “But you have the most gorgeous voice. So deep and wonderful. Arousing in a way I could never explain. I bet you could talk to me until I come untouched, one day. I’d try it for you.”

Sherlock would have liked to see that!

His mind was conjuring up ideas and half-imagined fantasies until John moaned loud and threw his head back, bashing it onto Sherlock's headboard by accident. John frowned and whispered, “Ow,” before laughing and continuing to stroke himself.

Knowing that he wouldn't last much longer, not when he could smell John's arousal surrounding him, hearing his slick sounds of precome against skin and feel the trembling jerks from John's arm moving in a steady rush, Sherlock moaned loudly and gripped John's leg tighter. He whimpered low in his throat, gasping and then croaking, “I think I'm going to come.”

“ Then do it, Sherlock,” John moaned, hands moving quicker over his own flesh, “I want to hear you. Please. I'm close too.”

Sherlock's vision went a little spotty as he came, bucking forward in a jack-knife of pleasure as his cock pulsed hard against his trembling belly. The pleasure erupted somewhere sharp in his brain and made tears spring into his eyes as he coaxed the last drops out onto his pubic hair. Sherlock had just clicked back online when he heard John's low, deep moan of Sherlock's name and then John was spending himself too, coming hard against his hand with a shifting of his hips.

* * *

John lay for a second, dazed by the pleasure of his orgasm only to jump moments later when something cold and wet slithered across his belly. It took a minute to recognise the smell of baby wipes, and John relaxed as Sherlock cleaned them both off.

A moment of panic began when he felt Sherlock move from the bed, his footsteps moving across the room. For a second, John wondered if Sherlock regretted this shared moment of intimacy – but then he heard the familiar and wonderful sound of Sherlock's underpants drawer slide open and then the sound of Sherlock's feet lifting from the floor.

Not long after, John felt Sherlock climb back into bed and reach for John's blindfold, undoing it and carefully removing it to allow John to blink at the semi-darkness of the room. Sherlock had returned to bed with a pair of black, tight-fitting pants but remained otherwise naked, laid out in a self-conscious position.

“ C'mere you,” John sighed, grabbing Sherlock and moving him across the bed until Sherlock was resting against John's good shoulder, curled up along the side of him so they could share the same air.

“ Was that good?” John asked, nuzzling at Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock nodded, a faint blush still across his cheeks and upper torso. He looked delicious and John tilted their heads to allow for a sensual kiss between them before he pulled back.

“ You gorgeous creature,” he muttered, “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“ I feel the same way,” Sherlock replied, stroking his fingers gently across John's scar in an unspoken praise. Without that wound, they may never have met. Definitely would not have been here.

“ We'll take our time with this stuff,” John promised. “We have all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are going to comment about the decision with the length/description of a character's penis and/or lack thereof; with how submissive/dominant a character seems to be to you; or how a certain character should sound, please don't bother. If you want specifics, want things to fit your interests, then either request a story or move on.
> 
> Constructive criticisms are welcomed!
> 
> Feedback fuels us

**Author's Note:**

> If you are going to comment about the decision with the length/description of a character's penis and/or lack thereof; with how submissive/dominant a character seems to be to you; or how a certain character should sound, please don't bother. If you want specifics, want things to fit your interests, then either request a story or move on.
> 
> Constructive criticisms are welcomed!
> 
> Feedback fuels us!


End file.
